


Bring Me Your Tears

by pizarra



Series: The Warlock's Bane [1]
Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: Abuse, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - Dark, Dark, Dark Arthur, Domestic Violence, M/M, Possessive Behavior
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-06-01
Updated: 2014-06-01
Packaged: 2018-02-03 00:38:38
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,510
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1724768
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pizarra/pseuds/pizarra
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When Arthur died near the shores of Avalon, the Sidhe King brought him back to life. However, the Sidhe has never been a friend of the Once and Future King, for when they sent Arthur back to the land of the living, they kept his soul. For a King without a soul will be the downfall of his own kingdom. Now, alive but a shell of the great king, Arthur returns to his rightful place on the throne, carrying a whispered prophecy from the Sidhe: Camelot will fall without Emrys by the side of the Once and Future King. And Arthur will stop at nothing to fulfill his destiny.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Bring Me Your Tears

Merlin is staring out the window, but his eyes are unseeing. He doesn't register the field full of knights training, or the sounds of the lower town. The council is to be done any moment now, and Arthur wastes no time in putting Merlin in his place. Over and over again.

The door opens and in comes Arthur. Merlin grips the stone wall with one hand, bracing himself for whatever is to come. With Arthur, one never knows what will come.

“Too righteous to even look at me now?” Arthur asks from behind him, voice laced with steel.

Merlin turns to face Arthur, too powerless to do anything against the great king. Arthur gestures for him to come forward, an order Merlin can’t really refuse. He starts taking off Arthur’s cloak and armour, making extra care to lay them out gently on the table behind him.

When he is almost done with the task, Arthur stops his movements by catching Merlin’s chin in his hand. Arthur slowly comes closer, lips open and inviting, but Merlin turns away, dislodging the king’s fingers.

With a snarl, Arthur catches Merlin’s neck in a tight grip, making Merlin gasp sharply. Struggling, Merlin tries to push Arthur away, urgently beating at the hand on his neck, thumping on the king’s chest. Nothing he does makes Arthur let go of him; only makes the King angrier, his grip tightening.

Merlin can feel the air painfully being cut off, his mouth falling open, his vision blurring. Next thing he knows, he’s on his back on the table, armour clanging to the floor.

The hand falls away, and the air all comes rushing into his lungs. He gasps, taking in as much oxygen as he could. His vision clears to see Arthur standing between his legs, hovering above him.

“Shh, shh.” What is meant to be reassuring is an insult to Merlin’s ears. He feels Arthur’s hand in his hair, petting him, comforting him. “I’m sorry. I didn’t want to hurt you.”

_Lies!_

He coughs, dry heaving by the side of the table. He doesn’t speak, doesn’t trust his voice not to fail him.

Arthur steps away, takes off his sword belt, then places it on the table beside Merlin. Ignoring the dark haired man, Arthur undresses himself before stepping into the bath tub prepared by the servant.

(The servant who deliberately avoids Merlin’s gaze; who pales at the sight of Merlin, half undressed, bruising all over his arms, neck, and chest; who bows low before walking out, when not even two moons ago they were the both of them servants.)

“Aren’t you coming in?” Arthur asks.

Still clutching his throat, Merlin shuffles towards the tub slowly, trying to prolong the inevitable.

“Well?” Arthur’s voice is urgent.

Merlin takes his clothes off, his actions slow and painful, before joining Arthur inside the tub. Arthur frowns as he notes that Merlin is on the other side, far away from him, just sitting in the water. With a roll of his eyes, he drags Merlin closer to him, the water sloshing down the sides of the tub. Merlin’s knees drag on the tub floor, his elbows hitting the sides, but Arthur doesn’t care.

“Arthur, please…” he whispers, begging Arthur to stop this madness.

The king chuckles, malice seeping into the sound even if Merlin’s not looking for it. “There you go, Merlin. Coming to me is not so hard, is it? Is not life much simpler if you would just stop defying me every single time?”

Arthur rearranges Merlin into a position he likes: with Merlin’s bare legs straddling his waist, their chests stuck together, Merlin’s mouth under his.

(Or Merlin on the bed, his legs splayed out obscenely, hands chained to the bed posts with cold iron, his mouth swollen and bleeding, weeping, and words of ‘please let me go’ whispered into the air.

Or Merlin face down on the table, arms pinned to the surface by an invisible force, legs spread wide, arse up in the air, and Arthur fucking into him with nothing but magic.)

“That’s it…”Arthur murmurs against his lips.

Yes, it would be so easy to give in to whatever Arthur wants, but Merlin has not always chosen the easy path. Not in protecting Arthur, not in building the Albion he’s always dreamed of.

He turns away from Arthur’s kiss.

Arthur growls and grabs a handful of his hair. “You will obey me!” He grits out.

“Arthur, please, my king, please,” he pleads, and that stops Arthur short. Merlin hasn’t addressed him as anything other than ‘Arthur’ since he came back from Avalon. The grip in his hair turns to petting, Arthur’s hands gentle. It would be so easy for Merlin to imagine that this is his Arthur murmuring his name, his Arthur comforting him with tender caresses. But it’s not him. Not anymore. “My king, please. Let Gwen and Leon go. Please.”

“Oh, Merlin,” Arthur dips his nose into the crook of his neck before looking into his eyes again. A wet hand slides up and down Merlin’s chest for what is supposed to be a soothing gesture, but only makes Merlin tense. A calm Arthur is a dangerous Arthur. “Don’t think about them, pet. They thought they could take the kingdom from me. No, no. They deserve prison.”

The king finally catches Merlin’s lips ( _only because I let him, only because I let him_ ), devouring Merlin’s tongue and breath and mouth. In and out, Arthur takes him, stopping only when the need to breathe becomes urgent.

“Please, Arthur, Sire, please,” he pants, tilting his head slightly away before Arthur can kiss him again. “I’m begging you. Let Gwen and Leon go. They thought you were dead.” His breathing ragged, Merlin watches Arthur lean against the tub, head tilting back, relaxed and calm. Merlin frowns, but bravely trudges on, needing Arthur to listen to reason. “ _We_ thought you were dead.”

Instead of answering, Arthur lifts Merlin to catch one of the warlock’s nipples between his teeth, nipping and laving at the nub.

“Arthur,” he gulps, “Sire, please. They’re innocent. Please!”

The king stops his ministrations on Merlin’s chest, choosing instead to slide a hand down Merlin’s back, right to the cleft between his arse, tenderly touching his hole.

Desperate to catch Arthur’s attention, Merlin smacks the king’s chest lightly. “I beg you! Please, I’d do anything!”

Arthur stops. Merlin is panting heavily, both from fright and desperation, watching the king narrow his eyes at him. “Anything?” Arthur asks, amused.

Merlin gulps but nods. Anything to get his friends free of the dungeons. Merlin isn’t allowed to see them—to see any of his old friends—but scared servants have been telling him that the former Queen has been crying every night, begging to be let out, while the knight tries his hardest to comfort Gwen even with a thick wall between them.

“Anything?” Arthur repeats.

“Yes. Yes, anything, Sire, please, let them go. I’d do anything, if you’d only let them go.”

Arthur’s smile is wicked, and he kneads Merlin’s arse quite hard. With very little preparation, the king slides his length in between his arse cheeks, hand tipping Merlin’s head back, as the warlock gasps for breath. Arthur latches on to his neck, mouth sucking on the prominent bone of his throat, nipping the skin.

“Anything, Merlin,” Arthur’s fingers dig into his waist. It hurts, but Merlin stops himself from crying out.

“Yes! Yes, yes! Anything! Please, my king! I’d do anything!”

Arthur punctuates Merlin’s words with the pounding of his hips.

The king grips his hair again, and shouts Merlin’s name as he comes, warm liquid filling Merlin’s hole. Arthur puts both hands on Merlin’s hips, pulling him closer, closer still, keeping his length completely locked inside Merlin as he spends everything he’s got.

Arthur whispers sweet words against Merlin’s lips, rubbing Merlin’s back, as he comes down from his orgasm. Once recovered, Arthur leaves and gets dressed, abandoning Merlin inside the tub.

The king didn’t notice that Merlin’s cock stayed soft the entire time.

 

\----------==========----------

 

The next day, Merlin watches from Arthur’s window as Gwen and Leon were escorted by guards to the gates.

_They’re free._

Merlin closes his eyes, and allows himself a few tears of relief. His friends are free, they no longer have to suffer under the cruel hands of Arthur. They can settle down someplace safe, someplace where Arthur can’t reach them, where the king’s power bears no meaning. He wishes them safe for all eternity.

A few moments later, the door to Arthur’s chambers open.

“Anything, you say?”

Surreptitiously wiping the tears from his eyes, he faces the King. He nods.

Arthur throws a couple of cold iron chains on the table. “Get dressed. Put these on. Then, follow me.”

He nods again. This. This is his punishment. For failing to kill Morgana all those years ago. For letting Mordred get near Arthur in the first place. For burning Arthur’s body in the lake of Avalon.

This is his sentence for failing the people of Albion.


End file.
